


Armour

by entanglednow



Category: Primeval
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-29
Updated: 2008-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan doesn't want to be one of those people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armour

The guns have to go back, for all that Ryan wants to keep them sometimes, now especially. They have to go back in the armory. No matter how well he can still see teeth and blood he has to put them down. Because people that don't feel safe unless they're armed all the time are - Ryan doesn't want to be one of those people. He can't afford to be one of those people, he has a job to do. Still he has a hard time taking his hands off of the shelf once he's done.

"Sometimes I question the wisdom of letting the military inventory their own weapons. They always seem to get unnaturally attached."

Ryan tips his head sideways.

Lester is a strangely neat shape in the open doorway, he doesn't bother to look at the equipment. The man despises wasted movement as much as wasted words, and that's clearly not why he's here.

There are people Ryan wants to see less at the moment, but off the top of his head he can't think of any.

"Sir," he says tightly, and that's as much respect as he stretches to. The whole affair today has been a fucking shambles and Lester most likely couldn't care less.

Lester nods like he's come to a decision, he draws one of his hands out from behind his back and pushes the armory door shut.

His hand isn't empty. He locks the door and slides the key back into his pocket.

Ryan hadn't even noticed that the door locked from the inside. Still it seems about right that Lester would have a key, or know someone who would give it to him no questions asked.

"Whatever this is about I really don't have the time for it, sir." Or the patience quite frankly.

"You are in a very unique situation, against a very unique enemy. I would hope that you understand this and realise that you will not necessarily always be quick enough, or flexible enough."

But he's damned if he couldn't do a better job sometimes.

"I'm aware of that."

"This falls into the category of 'things you cannot plan for,' Captain Ryan and you need to remember that."

"Do the things we can't plan for include dead men as well?"

"We plan for dead soldiers all the time, plan very well for them in fact," Lester says, and he makes it sounds easy, like men are equipment that can be replaced with newer, better models. And the bastard knows just how to fucking push, how to make every inch of his careful control mean absolutely nothing.

"Give me the key or I won't be responsible for my actions."

Lester looks tempted to roll his eyes and Ryan is going to be helpless to do anything but hit him unless he can get away, right now.

"I don't think I feel any more inclined to do as I'm told than you seem to at the minute," Lester says tartly, and it's true, it's impossibly true. If Lester had been his commanding officer this would have been for his own good. Shutting him away with the mess in his head until he could work it back into straight lines. Until he could do as he was told, again and again.

"Like it or not we are all responsible for our actions captain Ryan, and I haven't finished," he says calmly.

"You may not have finished talking but I'm finished listening."

Lester still doesn't move.

"You've finished listening when I say you have," Lester says quietly.

And Ryan has never wanted quite so much to reach out and - there's a bang when he hits the shelves, and Ryan has two handfuls of suit and Lester looks surprised for one brief second, until it's carefully pressed beneath irritation.

Ryan's going to get into trouble for this, so much fucking trouble.

"Give me the key."

Lester raises an eyebrow, and the fact that he can still do that. The fact that he can still _be_ that

"Sir," Ryan says through his teeth. "Give me the key, sir."

"You really are having trouble getting perspective on the situation aren't you?"

And Ryan wants to shake him in that moment, shake him fucking hard.

His hand drops, fully intent on shoving into Lester's pocket and retrieving the key himself.

Lester catches his wrist and his fingers are hard and sharp. Ryan could shake him easily enough, all he has to do is push that little bit. He guarantees he's stronger than Lester, but that's a line he can't cross and he knows it.

"It's not as easy as you seem to think," Ryan's voice comes out tight, and he doesn't have a clue how he's holding it in, because there's so much of it.

"Don't presume to know the first thing about what I'm thinking," Lester says, in a quiet, dark tone of voice. His hand relaxes a little on Ryan's wrist and he takes the opportunity to shove his hand into Lester's pocket and grab metal.

Lester digs his fingers into Ryan's wrist until he's forced to relax his hand on a hiss of surprise.

"Don't presume to know me at all," Lester says in a far more even tone of voice. But it's still not threatening, it's just a statement. But it grates in a way that Ryan doesn't want to hear, and all he can do is shove closer and just hold everything in. Lester's shoe squeaks against the lowest shelf and Ryan hadn't realised how tightly he had him pinned until he looks down. Lester doesn't even look scared, irritated, put out, curious but not scared, and that's a point Ryan wanted more than he'd thought he did.

He's never been this close to Lester before, he's not sure anyone has, and this has gone way past something they could just be forgiven or forgotten. Lester is by no means generous or understanding.

Which goes no way towards explaining why Ryan kisses him.

It's a confused movement, half angry and half restless and Lester goes utterly still under it. Ryan thinks he might have killed him with surprise. But then he's the one that's surprised, because for a brief, complicated, moment Lester kisses back...before he pulls away with a sharp twitch of his head.

"I am entirely incidental to the situation," he says carefully, but Ryan is still processing his own stupidity, and its unexpected consequences.

"You don't feel incidental," he says quietly, and his voice moves a section of hair off of the edge of Lester's ear.

"Nevertheless I will seem not so much incidental as supremely reckless and idiotic tomorrow, so I suggest you let go and find someone more appropriate to be reckless with."

There isn't so much as a quiver in Lester's voice and though the angle against the shelves can't even be close to comfortable he doesn't move.

It all suggests that he knows exactly how stupid an idea this is, and he's perfectly aware that the simple fact that he's alive and touchable is enough.

"Let go Captain Ryan," he says softly.

"Make that an order and I might," Ryan snaps back, leans into him.

Lester inhales, a quick snatch of air that manages, for just a fraction of a second, to make him look real. It's a reaction Ryan has seen a thousand times, when the curl of sensation is sudden and bright and sharp.

Ryan thinks that maybe this isn't just because Lester is alive and touchable, maybe it's not even about the power play.

Maybe it's about being wound so tight you no longer trusted yourself to breathe, and wanted just for once, to snap.

"You like to give orders, don't you?"

"And you're sometimes too close to realise when they're the right ones."

"Give me an order," Ryan says and he has no idea where he's going, none at all. But the way that sentence makes Lester take a quick careful breath, the way it makes irritation and restraint chase each other across his face.

He finds the untucked edge of Lester's shirt, slides his hands underneath, touches skin.

"We can't do this," Lester says and it's a very sensible tone of voice considering Ryan has his hand all the way up the back of his shirt.

"We already are." Ryan kisses him again before he can manage a reply, and for a moment it's a fight, it's all push while Lester is trying to pull. Until he gives in, until there are fingers under the edge of Ryan's vest, digging in, pulling him closer.

Ryan drops his other hand, grasps Lester's bare waist and drags him in.

"Do you want to snap too?" he asks into the curve of Lester's ear and he's a smart man, he gets it straight away. "You want to snap, you want to be pushed, and that's why you always pick me, because I'm not afraid to push you, you arrogant bastard."

Lester tips his head back to speak, but Ryan doesn't let him, he catches a handful of his hair and drags his head back round, kisses him hard.

He thinks Lester might protest, might dig his nails in and fucking hurt him. But instead there are hands dragging open his trousers in awkward, half-crushed movements. It makes him tip his head back and groan because this is insane, and there are teeth in his neck, sharp and sudden and hard. A hand forces its way past loosened fabric and wraps round his cock, which is achingly hard and it's impossible not to push up.

"You're going to be easy aren't you," Lester purrs against his throat, all quiet surprise.

"I have lubricant and condoms in my vest, don't fucking push me."

The expression that paints on Lester's face is almost more than he can take. He pushes up through Lester's fingers, and his own hands are dragging expensive pinstripe trousers over narrow hips.

He's not the only one who's going to be easy.

Lester's other hand catches the back of his neck, nails digging in, he pulls, kisses him again, and Ryan can't help but think that close is good, close is a fucking excellent idea.

The shelves are not meant to take this much weight, but they will, they absolutely will. Ryan discovers that he fits up against slender hips well enough, and Lester must agree because his hand moves away, finds Ryan's waist instead.

Then everything is just easy, stupidly easy, all push against bare skin, reckless and graceless in a way that's going to get fucking messy very, very quickly.

Which is now, _right now_ and Lester is going to have bruises on his waist.

The shelves shudder when Ryan presses in hard, and Lester's groan is crushed into something that sounds almost painful, breathing hot and damp against the edge of Ryan's cheek. He's murmuring garbled sentences that Ryan suspects are probably some sort of reprimand.

Ryan's forehead has tipped all the way into Lester's neck and he smells like aftershave, and significantly more debauched than a moment ago.

He straightens, and they manage through a combination of physics and determination not to get tangled up in the shelves or knock off anything expensive.

Lester's hair has fallen in his eyes.

He looks like a real person.

Ryan isn't sure if that's better, or worse.


End file.
